Wildfire
by cerulean cascades
Summary: One spark lights another. After the second rebellion in the history of Panem, the flame has barely died before the 76th Hunger Games begin. Tributes will begin to weigh their choices of survival against humanity, and life against love. Sparks fly, and one flame lights another. Once the fire is caught, it spreads like a wildfire.
1. The First Chapter

Wildfire: Chapter 1

**Let's pretend that Katniss died and Peeta committed suicide, and the Capitol won. The Hunger Games are still continuing. But since it's the 76th Hunger Games, the Games right after the second uprising, the arena will be double the size as the previous 75 years. I know, I know. LAME PUNISHMENT. But hey. The crappy updater is back! And I'm pretty proud of this, because this chapter is about 2100 words or so. Not sure how much exactly. Hopefully all of the other chapters will be this long, at least the reapings. Each chapter about the reapings will cover what happens before the reaping, during the reaping, and the goodbyes after the reapings. This is my first Hunger Games and Clique crossover, hope you like it. If you hate it, well- suck it up. So yeah, basically the Clique characters live in Panem- in the districts. And they get reaped, and blah blah blah. And now, we interrupt your regularly scheduled program for a formal apology from Anastasia Bree. Disclaimed: I don't own anything, except for anything you might notice that was different from the Clique and Hunger Games books and the really long author's notes that you should really read. **

**I'm so sorry that I haven't update for at least 2 months! I will update Wave Hello next, and then I'll announce the winner of the OC contest. Good job everyone! :) But I have a legit excuse for not updating, besides the fact that I am just a crappy updater. First, I was grounded. Then, my family went on vacation to Yellowstone, in Wyoming. I was there for TEN DAYS with no wi-fi, internet, or cell phone signal. So there's my legit excuse. But if you feel like coming after me with pitchforks, torches, and whatnot, go ahead. *bows head in shame* But...now that school's back, (today was my first day) I'll get to write more because I'll use the excuse to do homework on the computer to write! Thanks for being so patient! **

**Kiss-kiss,**

**Anastasia**

* * *

_Alicia Rivera, age 13, District 1_

* * *

I get out of bed when I see the sunlight filtering through my curtains. I groan- today is reaping day. I've been trained my whole life for the Hunger Games- but not by choice. My mother and father forced me to train since I was able to hold a knife. So for the past ten years, I've trained to kill other kids. My dream come true. I force myself into the lavish white silken dress that my mother had a maid deliver to me when I was asleep-reaping clothes. I hate the Games, everything about it. It's so barbaric, forcing mere children to fight to the death. Yet my parents adore it. I select a tasteful strand of pearls and adorn a pair of glittering diamond earrings. Seeing my lifestyle, you would hardly believe I lived in District 1. District 1 is wealthier than most; favored by the Capitol for our luxury items. I'm painting my lips with red color as a maid enters my room.

"Ms. Rivera, your parents are expecting you for breakfast." The maid says, keeping her head bowed and her eyes trained in her boring white flats.

"Thank you, Agatha. I will be there shortly," I say, offering the quiet woman a kind smile. Agatha nods once before scurrying down the hall again. I groan as I force my feet to take me to the dining room, where my parents are enjoying their breakfast and are already tuned in to the CapitolNet television program. My mother smiles as I sit down to my croissant.

"Good morning, Alicia darling. Are you ready for the Games? I hope you'll volunteer this year." My father immediately says without looking away from Claudius Templesmith. I stare at him in disbelief, my mouth hanging open in horror. When I don't respond, both my parents raise an eyebrow and look at me. I was unable to control myself anymore. "YOU WANT ME TO VOLUNTEER TO BE MURDERED IN A BARBARIC CRUEL FIGHT TO THE DEATH ON LIVE TV!" I shouted, quite shocking my parents. My mother gives me a disapproving look.

"Alicia- I'm warning you. If you don't volunteer this year, you will find yourself in the streets." My father says- his face devoid of any emotion. My eyes widen and I scream; long drawn out sound that doesn't affect my parents at all as they sit there glaring at me stoically. I grip my butter knife and fling it at my father. I'm not particularly good at throwing knives, so I miss him by a few inches. I stomp off while kicking off my white heels, hearing faint mutterings from both my parents.

_"Len, that was a bit harsh."_

_"I'm sorry Nadia, but her words were just not acceptable."_

_"Yes, but now she's going to hate you for the rest of your life."_

I try to steady my breathing as anger surges through me. Fuck that son of a bitch. I slammed the door behind me and immediately collapsed on my bed. Fuck. I calmed down enough to call my only friend- a airheaded blonde named Olivia Ryan from training. I began shouting into the phone as soon as I heard Olivia pick up on the other line.

"THEY'RE FORCING ME TO VOLUNTEER THIS YEAR!" I shouted.

"Volunteer for what?" I rolled my eyes at Olivia's stupid question and her perkiness.

"THE HUNGER GAMES, YOU IDIOT!"

"Oh...the Games! So that's what you meant!" I smack myself on the forehead at Olivia's stupidity.

"If I don't volunteer or get reaped, they'll throw me out!"

"Ooohh, that's harsh."

"No, it's plain stupid! Fuck that son of a bitch!"

"Well, good luck. Mother wants to get me to get some last minute training in- just in case I get reaped."

"Well, see you at reaping Olivia." I say, all of my anger changing to dread and despair. I already knew I would be in the Games. So I might as well make my last few hours of freedom useful. I sat down at my writing desk and pulled a piece of pristine white vanilla-scented stationery. I carefully dipped the gold nib of my favorite gold fountain pen into a small glass pot of gold ink. Then, touching pen to paper; I began to write my will.

_I, Alicia Rivera, leave all of my possessions to my friend Olivia Ryan. Leave nothing for my parents , Len and Nadia Rivera._

There. Satisfied, I copied my will on to two other pieces of stationery. One was to be given to my lawyer, another to my good-for-nothing parents, and the last one was to be given to Olivia. I wove my long thick raven hair into a fishtail braid to as I tried to calm my racing heart. I was going to die. I was going to die young, and I would die a long, painful death at the hand of another adolescent. Once my heart was no longer racing, I grabbed a piece of the carefully folded paper and stomped down the hall to my father's study. When I banged the door open upon entering, my father was busy signing important forms and whatnot, as the mayor of District 1. I reached over his suit-encased shoulder and slammed my will on his desk, directly on top of his documents. "What's this, Alicia?" I heard him ask. I didn't answer, but just slammed the door closed as I stormed out of the study.

I returned to my room and mindlessly sat at my vanity, toying with different jars of lip color and face paint. If I was going to die, I would die doing what I do best. Looking beautiful. I carefully ran a brush through my black curls, slowly evening them out into waves. I then carefully powdered my face and began coating my flawless olive-hued Spanish skin with various blushes and bronzers. Then I carefully traced my big brown eyes with gold eyeliner. I finally reached for a jar of luscious cherry red lip color, and began painting the thick oily concoction on my full lips. I would die beautiful. Once my makeup was complete, I decided to ditch the gaudy white heels I had left in the dining room and opt for gold strappy wedges instead. I also wrapped a gold sash around my dress to match. I adorned my hair with a golden circlet, also pinning a gold pin onto my shoulder, a flame. Alicia Rivera, was a beautiful flame. I hadn't realized that I took so long to get ready. Sure enough, my mother herself came to my door.

"Alicia, it's time to leave. We don't want to be late for reaping."

"Coming."

When I walked outside clutching Olivia's version of my will, Mother gasped. Her eyes filled with tears and her hand flew to her carefully painted red pout.

"Alicia...you look so beautiful…" She said, choking out the words. I gave her a cold smirk and replied, "If I'm going to die, I will die beautiful." Then I turned on my heel and stalked to the door before she could say any more.

* * *

On the ride to town square, I don't look at either Mother or Father. A cold silence settled between us, like snow settling in a hollow. My father exits and makes his way up to the stage. My mother exits and gives my hand a squeeze before making her way into the crowd of family and ineligibles. I feel a prick of pain as the Peacekeeper sitting behind the table takes a bit of my blood. I'm herded into a group of female 13s, exchanging terse nods with a few girls before seeing Olivia Ryan. I jam my will into her lithe fingers and face the stage as my father begins to read the Treaty of Treason. I zone out as her reads the same old speech given every year. Then it's time for reaping. Shirley, District 1's escort, accepts the microphone. Her tower of posh neon yellow curls are topped by a tiny glittering tiara, and her eyelids are shadowed in a spring green color. A tasteful aqua color lines her wide green eyes. Her lips are swamp green, contrasting starkly against her pure white powdered face. She looks like a circus freak, matching in all green with her neon green suit and evergreen pumps. But then again, they all look like mutants in the Capitol.

"Ladies first!" She giggles, teetering over to the glass ball that holds the girls' names. I cross my fingers and pray that it's me, so I don't have to volunteer. Shirley's green talons unfold the paper slip and read out the name in a crystal clear voice.

"Olivia Ryan!" What?! Olivia's stunned, and on the verge of tears. She takes a step forward, but I hold her back. My hand shoots into the air.

"I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!" I shout, as loud as I can.

Silence.

Immediately, the crowd of 13 year old girls parts so I can go to the stage. I tread slowly, my feet dragging. Olivia's wide innocent baby blue eyes are swimming with tears, but I meet her eyes with mine, sending a telepathic message._ 'It's okay, Olivia.'_ As I mount the stage, Shirley forces her hand into mine, shaking it wildly.

"Congratulations to...er…what was your name darling?"

Dumbly, I stare out in shock at the sea of well-dressed people. "Alicia Rivera." I say, my voice flat and lifeless. I can sense my father smiling behind me. I whip around and slap him- hard. The whole of District 1 gasps audibly. A pair of Peacekeepers restrain my arms from behind. I thrash violently.

"LET GO OF ME YOU ASSHOLES!" I scream as I kick and bite the Peacekeepers. My father signals to them, and they release me reluctantly. "Sorry, my daughter is a bit...tempered." He chuckles.

"You can say that again," Shirley mutters, but since she was still holding the mircophone to her pastel green lips, everyone heard her. Idiot. "Congratulations to Alicia Rivera, tribute of District 1!" District 1 cheers, clapping and hooting loudly. I manage a feeble smile as I lock eyes with Olivia. I barely notice at Shirley stumbles to the glass ball that hold's the boys' names and reaches in for a slip.

"Joshua Hotz!"

_Who the hell is that?_

I'm stunned to see the Spanish boy from training walk towards the stage. Joshua Hotz and I never spoke; never acknowledged each other. I recognize only his appearance. Olive skin- just like mine, chocolate brown eyes- just like mine, thick wavy inky black hair- just like mine, and full red lips- just like mine. He's like...my twin. I stick my hand out to meet his for the handshake. Shirley grasps our arms and raises them.

"I give you, the tributes of District 1! ALICIA RIVERA AND JOSHUA HOTZ!"

* * *

My father sits silently on the edge of the couch- as far away from me as possible. My mother is silently weeping, her narrow shoulders shaking. They wanted me to volunteer. So why is Mother crying? We sit there in an awkward silence until the Peacekeeper comes in. My father turns to me just before he exits. "Good luck, Alicia. Show them what Alicia Rivera is made of." Then he's gone. Forever.

My mother dabs at her skillfully made up eyes with a silk hankie and presses a gold wristlet into my palm. "Your token." She says, in some way of explanation, giving me a sad smile. She plants a kiss on my forehead before leaving. "I love you, Alicia. Please come back." I nod, even though in my heart I know I can't win these Games. My mother hurries out, and I take the time to inspect the bracelet. Engraved on it, are two words. _Forever beautiful._ Then, the door opens, and Olivia is led in. She wastes no words, briskly walking over and hugging me.

"Alicia, I know you can win."

"No, I can't win!"

"Yes you can! You're the best at hand-to-hand combat!"

"So? There are girls from Districts 2 and 4 who know how to kill you twenty different ways with a knife! I don't stand a chance!"

"Yes you do, You're 5'4", and you're taller than me by at least a few inches. You can swim, and you can punch. You can do it."

"Olivia. Stop. I'm not coming back. I know it."

"Yes, you will come back!"

I give up arguing. Olivia is like a puppy dog, persisting in what she wants until she gets it. Arguing with her is fruitless. We just sit there in comfortable silence, hugging each other. All too soon, a Peacekeeper is back. I flash Olivia a small, sad smile as she slips through the door. And then- I'm alone.


	2. I've Got the Eye of the Tiger, a Fighter

Wildfire: Chapter 2

**So hey. How was the first chapter? So I've decided that there will be two chapters on reapings per district. Yeah...today's author's note won't be as long as the first chapter's just cuz… So my school started already, and I have a ton of homework. Bleh. Okay, let's cut the crap.**

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the Clique or Hunger Games characters that you might be familiar with. I don't own the song I used for the title. I don't own anything but the plot. Disclaimer applies to all chapters.

**By the way, the song is "Roar" by Katy Perry. I LOVE THIS SONG. IT IS SO FREAKING AWESOME.**

**Kiss-kiss,**

**Anastasia**

**.:I've Got the Eye of the Tiger, a Fighter:.**

* * *

_Joshua Hotz, age 13, District 1_

* * *

_BUZZ_! I groan sleepily and slam my hand down on where my alarm clock was. Once the irritating sound was gone, I rolled over and continued sleeping. It felt like I slept for five seconds, but I think it was a few hours. My twelve-year old sister then came to wake me up when I wasn't at breakfast.

"Josh!"

"Mhmhmhh?"

"Josh! Why are you still in bed?! It's reaping day! It's nearly noon!"

"Mmmhnmh."

"JOSH!"

"Fine, fine. I'm getting up! Go annoy someone else, Chelsea!"

I drag myself out of bed into the trousers and button-down shirt laid out for me. Then I head to the bathroom to brush my teeth and gel my hair. I squeeze a dime-sized dollop of clear, sticky hair gel from a green tube and slathered it in my messy hair. Humming, I ran a thin comb through it and combed the tips of my hair up. Good enough. I walked bare-foot into the kitchen and dumped the pancakes in my mouth while chugging a glass of milk. In the lavish living room, my father was watching the CapitolNet news program while my mother was absorbed in a high-end fashion magazine. My parents weren't Hunger Games fanatics who forced their children to volunteer- thank God- and they didn't particularly like the Hunger Games. But they still put me in training, just in case I got reaped.

"Morning!" I greeted, opening the refrigerator in search of some more food.

"Good afternoon, Joshua." My father said, emphasizing the word 'afternoon'. I grinned sheepishly and shrugged.

"You overslept again."

"I was tired and my alarm clock didn't go off." My mother shot me a knowing look. She knew my alarm clock went off and I turned it off again. I did that everyday. Chelsea was perched like a bird on a stool by the kitchen island. She was absently sipping her orange juice.

"Chelse?" No reply. I walked up to her and waved my spoon in front of her face. Still no reply. She finally snapped out of it when I pinched her.

"Ow! Josh! What was that for?!"

"You were spacing out." I shrugged.

"I was just...thinking." She said quietly. I knew that tone. It meant she was nervous or scared. After all, it was her first year of being eligible for reaping.

"Chelse, are you worried about reaping?"

"How do you know?"

"I'm your brother, I can tell that you're scared."

"But Josh...what if it's me?"

"I promise, it won't be you. Your name in thousands. You don't even have a chance of getting reaped."

"But what if you get reaped, Josh?"

"I'm pretty sure that I won't get reaped. I'm thirteen, I only have two slips."

__"Oh...okay."

* * *

I watch Chelsea fidget with her fancy white lace dress, cinched at the waist with a thin gold belt. Then her fingers move to her hair- raven curls clipped with a white lacy bow. Her face still shows her nerves, but it seems like she's more at ease. I was pretty confident that I wouldn't get reaped, but you never know. The car ride to town square seems to take forever, but when we get there, the mayor is just about to start mounting the stage. I hold Chelsea's hand as I lead her to the census table, where a uniformed Peacekeeper is taking blood. I hear Chelsea whimper, and pat her shoulder reassuringly.

"It's just a little, Chelse. You'll barely feel it." I whisper as the Peacekeeper reaches for her hand. I see her nod subtlety. I watch as she's herded into a group of twelve-year old girls. I feel the needle pierce my skin and involuntarily flinched. Then I'm led into a roped group of thirteens. I begin to space out as the mayor begins to read the boring Treaty of Treason.

"It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks…" He intones before proceeding to read off our victors. Then it's time for reaping. The mayor hands the microphone to our escort, Shirley. Shirley looks like a freakishly green circus freak or a mutant from outer space. I guess that's what they all look like in the Capitol. Scary. Shirley reaches deep into the glass bowl that holds the girls' names, and I close my eyes and pray that it's not Chelsea as Shirley carefully unfolds the slip of paper. Please don't be Chelsea, please don't be Chelsea, please don't be Chelsea, PLEASE DON'T BE CHELSEA…

"Olivia Ryan!"

It's not Chelsea, thank God. Olivia Ryan, the blonde airheaded girl from training who's friends with the mayor's daughter. I see her begin to take a step forward before she's stopped. A hand shoots into the air.

"I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!"

It's the mayor's daughter, her face void of any emotion. I don't know her name, but my heart immediately lurches. She looks so much like...Chelsea. She could be my twin. She slowly mounts the stage, where her father is grinning behind her. Her fist clenches and her jaw tightens, and she looks like she wants to punch somebody. The mayor's daughter is beautiful, dressed in a gauzy white dressed fastened with a gold sash, her ebony hair cascading into waves and adorned with a golden circlet. She stares out at the crowd, emotionless. Shirley forces the mayor's daughter's hand into her green-taloned hand, shaking it maniacally.

"Congratulations to...er...what was your name darling?"

"Alicia Rivera." Her father is still grinning from ear-to-ear when Alicia whirls around and slaps her father across the face- hard. The sharp sound rings out, and all of District 1 gasps while I fight the urge to laugh. The mayor clutches his left cheeks, where there is now a visibly red hand print. That's gotta hurt. A pair of Peacekeepers grab Alicia's arms from behind, restraining her. Alicia begins to kick and bite violently, thrashing about.

"LET GO OF ME YOU ASSHOLES!" She screams as she kicked a Peacekeeper in the stomach, knocking the air out of him. The Peacekeeper clutches his stomach and gasps. I clap my hand over my mouth and try really hard not to laugh. The mayor has finally recovered, and signals to the Peacekeepers. They release Alicia reluctantly.

"Sorry, my daughter is a bit...tempered."

"You can say that again." Shirley muttered, her hideous green lips still pressed against the microphone. Alicia rolled her eyes and glared at her father, She looked like she was trying very hard not to pummel her father to death right then and now. My eyes are still trained on Alicia Rivera when Shirley walks to the glass bowl that contains the boys' names. I don't even have time to pray for my safety when she reads the name out loud in a loud, clear voice.

"Joshua Hotz!"

_That's me! Wait...that's me! Holy shit!_

I froze, not moving; not doing anything but staring at the stage. The crowd of boys immediately parts, giving me a direct path to the stage. I have no choice but to walk. I hear Chelsea crying when I walk past her section. When I reach the stage, I hold my hand out for the customary handshake, and Alicia meets my hand with hers. Shirley clasps both of our forearms and raises them.

"I give you, the tribute's of District 1! ALICIA RIVERA AND JOSHUA HOTZ!"

* * *

Chelsea is sobbing into my shirt while my mother is crying into a lace hankerchief. My father rests his hand on my shoulder, patting me awkwardly.

"Josh, I'm so sorry! I'm sorry I was such a horrible sister, I'M SORRY!" Chelsea wailed. I lifted her chin, forcing her to look at me.

"Chelsea, look at me. I'll be fine, I've trained. Don't worry, okay? And you weren't a bad sister, just an annoying one." I say, causing her to scowl. She doesn't say anything, and just nods. My father gives me a quick hug.

"Joshua, I know you can do this."

"Thanks, Dad."

My mother hugs me, and pins a gold circular pin on my shirt. Our family crest. "Your token," she says tearfully. And all too soon, a Peacekeeper is here to take them away. My family gathers around me for one last final hug. Then my parents trudge out the door. Chelsea is still crying, clinging onto me for dear life. The Peacekeeper has to pull a screaming and flailing Chelsea out the door. Then the heavy mahogany door slams shut. No one else is going to visit me. I'm more of the strong silent type, keeping mostly to myself. So as a result, I don't have any close friends, just acquaintances. I do feel like I can win these Games, but only if I use everything I've ever learned...

* * *

**How was it? Did it suck? So here's which district I thought each Clique character should belong to:**

District 1: Alicia Rivera and Joshua Hotz

District 2: Massie Block and Derrick Harrington

District 3: Kristen Gregory and Kemp Hurley

District 4: Claire Lyons and Cameron Fisher

District 5: Dylan Marvil and Christopher Plovert

District 6: Layne Abeley and Dempsey Solomon

District 7:Skye Hamilton and Dune Baxter

District 8:

District 9:

District 10:

District 11:

District 12:

**I need OCs for Districts 8-12! So an OC contest is now open!**

****JOV (guest): Thanks! Lolll, I love Claire too, so she's in District 4. I was originally going to put her in District 12, and she's going to be a nice Career. That's just a generally idea, and I might change it but still...THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR REVIEWING!

**REVIEW.**


	3. It's a Big Bad World

Wildfire: Chapter 3

**KA-BLAM! UPDATE!**

***fanfare***

**The crappy updater is back! ...Hey. So I was seriously motivated by listening to Selena Gomez's "B.E.A.T." I don't usually like Selena that much, but this song is pretty good, so I definitely suggest you check it out. BTW, it's from her "Stars Dance" album. School. BLEH. I was so annoyed today when my math teacher decided to rant about how great his sons were at golfing. SNOOZER. Anyway, it was like freaking hot today. Anyway, it was freaking 100 degrees today, and my sister's elementary school is like super-paranoid about intruders and stuff like that so there are no unlocked entrances into the school. And I seriously needed some air-conditioning, or I would have to start inviting people to my funeral. And this idiot forgot to include an OC form for the contest, so that will be down below. Okay, you can stop reading this and get to the actual story- if you were even reading all of this anyway. Chapter title is from aforementioned song. And this chapter is dedicated to parachute hearts (Lily), because she's awesome and she's the one who pushed me to get off my lazy butt and update. Enjoy.**

**Love,**

**Anastasia**

**.:It's A Big Bad World, But I'm Not Ashamed of It:.**

* * *

_Massie Block, age 13, District 2_

* * *

I'm up before the sun, throwing knives at the dummy in the training room. I fling one knife that directly embeds itself in the heart of the foam figurine. Another sharp curved weapon buries itself into the dummy's brain. As I grip my last knife, I feel sweat trickling down my forehead and my arm. I grasp the knife's leather-bound handle tightly and fling it as hard as I can. As I throw the projectile, the knife slips from my sweaty palms and slices my left palm as it finds the squishy rib cage.

"FUCK!" I shout, not caring who heard me. After all, who would be up at 4 in the morning at the training center? I stomp my black leather combat boot on the squishy training room floor and carefully nurse my injured hand. Fuck, today is reaping day. I'd be screwed if I was reaped. I dropped the bouquet of knives that I was clutching in my right hand and gently probed the damaged flesh. I sighed. For once in my life, I was grateful for my freakish ambidextrous ability. My right hand threw just as well as my left hand, but just with less power because I normally don't throw with my right. I kicked the knives away and gently dab the blood away. I'm about to storm into the infirmary to get my hand patched up when I hear a familiarly annoying, irritating, amused chuckle from the door. I'd recognize that mocking laughter anywhere. Derrick Harrington. He was leaned up against the door frame, his dirty blonde hair falling into his amused caramel eyes. I glared at him, searing him with my angry amber irises.

"I never thought I'd see the day where the great Massie Block would cut herself." He says, smirking tauntingly. It took all of my self-control to keep myself from grabbing one of the multiple knives I had dropped and stick it into his heart. Why was he here anyway? Was he so eager to annoy me outside of training as to follow me everywhere I go? Derrick was the most egotistical, idiotic, big-headed, stupid failure I have ever met. During training he was always trying to throw me off, catch me off guard. And you don't want to annoy Massie Block in a room full of dangerous weapons. Instead of retorting, I glared at him and scowled.

"Why are you here, Harrington?"

"Same reason you are."

"Please. Don't expect me to believe that you showed up exactly at 4 in the morning because you wanted to train."

"Chill, Block. I'm not here to humiliate you. I just got here."

"Unless you'd like me to throw a knife into your brain, I suggest you shut up and leave me alone."

"Anger management much." I heard him mumble under his breath as he sauntered past me to the wall that held various swords and spears.

I scowled as I moved to pick up the discarded weaponry with my left hand, forgetting that it was injured.

"SHIT!" I shouted, as my cut began to bleed profusely. I cringed in pain, trying not to show any weakness in front of Derrick, or I'd never hear the end of this. I heard something clatter to the floor and the sound of shoes running across the gym floor. I was starting to feel dizzy from loss of blood when suddenly warm, strong arms enveloped me. Derrick. Instinctively, I pulled away and immediately sank to the floor. Derrick pulled me up and helped me to the infirmary, concern replacing amusement in his caramel eyes. I probably should mention that Derrick Harrington was my boyfriend, once upon a time. Key word: WAS. We dated back when we were twelve for about half a year before he cheated on me. And we had been rivals ever since then. I felt Derrick gently clean up all the blood around my hand and arm with a warm paper towel. I watched as he slowly cleaned up the cut with some rubbing alcohol, trying not to wince. Then he carefully squeeze thick white antibiotic cream onto the wound and rubbed it in. Then he wound a strip of white bandage around my injury. A strand of my wavy chestnut hair escaped from its ponytail and fell towards my face. I felt Derrick gently brush it away from my face as my eyes found his. Then I slapped myself back into reality and pulled away. I quickly walked out the door and back to the gym, muttering a barely audible "thanks" on my way out. Things would never be the same between us.

* * *

I storm into my room, still pissed that my hand got messed up. I kick off my leather combat boots and fling my brown leather jacket onto the bed. I smooth my hair out after taking my brown waves out of my ponytail. I sigh with relief when I finally strip off my teal racerback and sweaty blue sports bra. I change into a light green push-up bra and slip on a spring green tank top and white denim shorts. I was never that much of a girly girl. I'm more of the aggressive girl who will stick a knife into you if you annoy her. I leave my hair down naturally for reapings and slide on a stretchy black elastic hair band on. Then I check my reflection once more in the full- length mirror on the wall opposite the door before shrugging on my leather jacket on the way out. My mother raises her eyebrows, silently asking me where I've been. My father smiled a knowing smile, knowing that I had gone to the gym to work off my nervousness like I usually do. My older brother Aaron is the only one stupid enough to give me away. Mother doesn't like it when I'm at the training center 24/7.

"Hey Mass. Training center again?" I glare at him while I nod stiffly. I sent him a friendly telepathic message. _You're an idiot. I'm going to kill you._ My eyes said as I glared at him fiercely. _Sorry_, his sheepish look seemed to say. My mother pursed her berry red lips but didn't say anything. I drank a glass of milk while eating a low-calorie cranberry muffin.

"So, Massie, are you excited for reaping?" My father said, not even glancing up from his newspaper.

"Uh, sure." My family didn't really care for the Hunger Games, but I was going to volunteer this year. I wanted all my hard work to pay off. Aaron was never in the Hunger Games, after training for 18 years. This year he was nineteen, making him ineligible for reapings. Thank God. I don't know what an idiot like Aaron would've done in the Games.

Then Aaron notices my bandaged hand.

"Mass, what happened to your throwing hand?" He said, concern clear in his voice.

"Oh, uh, I accidentally lost my grip and cut myself during training." I said uncomfortably, fidgeting around on my chair; earning a hard glare from my mother and a worried look from my father. Then I retired to my room until it was time for reapings.

* * *

I slid my shorts off and changed into more stretchy and comfortable yoga pants and I slide to the floor to begin my series of stretches. I'm flexing my bandaged hand and stretching on the floor in full splits when my mother rapps on the door of my room and pokes her head in through the narrow crack. She immediately scowls when she sees me stretching. Whatever. It's my life, not her's. I'll do whatever I want with my life.

"What do you want, Mother?" I grumble, glaring at her very pointedly. She only rolls her eyes and taps her diamond studded timepiece.

"It's almost reaping time and you're not even ready, Massie. That's what."

"I am ready, _Mother_."

"No, you're not. You can't possibly expect me to be seen with you at reapings looking like _that_." She sniped, mocking my annoyed tone. I look down at my ensemble. My light green tank top is still on, and my yoga pants added a relaxed mood to my outfit. But I knew girls who would go to reapings in skimpy prom dresses and sky-high heels. I rolled my eyes. Mother called Cassandra, our maid in. Cassandra skipped in holding a large plastic bag, usually used in protecting formal attire. Wait...what was in that bag? Mother smirked at me as Cassandra unzipped the bag to reveal a silky coral dress. My eyes widened. She wanted me to go to reapings. Wearing that?! Ew, no way. Then, Cassandra lifted up a pair of orange peep-toed wedges with bows on the toes. Seriously?! The dress was already pushing it.

"NO. I. AM. NOT. WEARING. THAT. TRASH." Mother's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Massie. Elizabeth. Block." Ugh, the full name. I hated it when she did that. It meant, do what I tell you or else there will be terrible consequences. I sighed in defeat. At least Derrick would have one last chance to see me resemble a girl. For once. I snatched the dress away from Cassandra and grabbed the shoes from Mother. Ugh. The outfit itself was gorgeous; I just hated wearing fancy shit. It gets in the way of my knife throwing. I stomped to my bathroom and got dress, grimacing as I tried to figure out how to slip on the dress without ruining it. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

The ride to town square is serious and tension-filled. Aaron just stares out the window thinking about whatever he was thinking about while Mother and I took turns glaring at each other. As soon as I felt the tires stop moving, I kicked open the door and jumped out. I smiled smugly as Mother glared at me for unladylike behavior. Who cares? I was still miffed that I had been forced to don this girly dress and those impractical shoes. I stomped over to the census table and offered my index finger to the white uniformed Peacekeeper. He jabs it with the needle and I'm herded into a roped group of thirteen year-old girls, who are dressed even more stupidly than I am.

"Massie, darling! I'm surprised you actually distantly resemble a female!" I hear a snobby, annoying, obnoxious female voice trill behind me. I whip around to see none other than Celestia Tarrowen. Let's make this short and sweet. I hate Celestia, Celestia hates me. Done. I glare at her, using all of my self control not to run over to the nearest Peacekeeper and ask for a knife that I can bury in Celestia's brain. Celestia hated me for dating Derrick. Well, EXCUSE ME if he didn't want to go blind because of her ugly makeup, overly frizzy curls, and "rose" perfume that could easily be mistaken for tear gas. Not to mention her clownish clothes. She wouldn't have looked out of place at all amongst those Capitolfreak shows. I silently seethe, mainly because she was obviously making fun of my flat chest while she has her showy (read: slutty) curvy figure.

"Celestia! How nice to see you! Would you mind helping with something?" I say as sweetly as possible. My words are so sugary sweet that it makes my teeth ache.

"Sure, darling! What do you need?" She says, sounding totally fake.

"Then will you please get your head out of your ass, it's not a hat!" I snap before turning my attention to the short balding mayor, who was currently droning on about our victors and the Treaty of Treason. I scan the crowds, searching for Derrick. Our eyes, accidentally meet as I see him in a cluster of thirteen year-old boys.

Caramel melds into amber.

Amber clings to caramel.

Then I break away before he can see my blush. His floppy dark blonde hair looks wet, with fresh comb-tracks in it. His button-up shirt is unbuttoned at the top, revealing his neck and hinting at the top of his defined chest. Okay, I so did not think that. I. DID. NOT. THINK. THAT. DERRICK. FREAKING. HARRINGTON. LOOKED. HOT. I flinch as I hear the sharp squeal of the microphone, which drew my attention to our gay-looking wannabe rainbow escort.

"Hi everyone! My name is Bubble, and I'm your escort!" She squealed loudly into the microphone. _No. Fucking. Shit._ Our escort has ankle-length hair, dyed a rainbow of colors. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, you name it. Her skin is dyed rainbow too, and her contacts are also swirling rainbows.

"Girly girls first!" Barf.

She reaches deep into the glass fishbowl and pinches a slip of paper.

"CELESTIA TARROWEN!"

Celestia looked shocked, then unhappy. No one wanted to volunteer this year, because the arena would be twice the size of the previous years'. She took a step forward before I jumped in front of her.

"I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!" I shouted, trying not to choke on her tear gas perfume. I'm confused when I hear another voice echoing my words, a male voice. My eyes involuntarily focus on the group of male thirteens. It's...Derrick. His hand in the air. Determination and fear in his eyes.

Bubble's kaleidoscope eyes widen then shine with excitement. Bitch.

"Well, come on up, you two!" She warbles, twirling like a ballerina reject on the tips of her impossibly high and thin heels.

I stride towards the stage, Derrick flanking me. I mount the stage, searching for my family. There's Mother, angry and stony-faced. There's Aaron, shocked, proud, and scared. There's Father, proud yet worried. I try not to immediately retract my hand from Bubble's as she shakes it enthusiastically. I grimace and try not to wipe the imaginary Bubble germs off on my dress. I watch Derrick's face contort and try not to laugh as he withdraws his hand as fast as he could.

"What are your names?" She asks, shoving the microphone into my face and practically up my nose.

"Massie Block."

"And you, sweetheart?" She asks Derrick. I watch Derrick cringe when she called him "sweetheart". Ew. I seriously might throw up.

"Derrick Harrington."

Bubble gripped our wrists and jerked them into the air.

"MASSIE BLOCK AND DERRICK HARRINGTON, TRIBUTES OF DISTRICT 2!"

Cheering and applause.

* * *

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!" Mother explodes, her calm demeanor gone.

"I wanted to volunteer." I shrugged noncommittally. Aaron is staring at me. My father is holding my hand and begging for me to come home.

"Mass, you're gonna win." I look up, shocked. It's Aaron.

"Thanks, Aaron."

"No seriously, Mass, you're the best at knife throwing I've ever seen. You can kill them all and come home."

I nod, unsure of how to respond. Mother is still seething.

"YOU'RE AN UNGRATEFUL LITTLE BITCH! HOW DARE YOU?!" Mother screams, trying to claw at me with her fingernails while Aaron is restraining her. I shrug and grin slyly at her. Mother is still raging when the Peacekeepers come and drag her away. Thank God. I sincerely hope that she'll die of cancer by the time I get home.

There's only one thing I know for sure.

I'm going to win these Games.

Even if I have to kill Derrick.

But he doesn't matter right?\

Right.

Because all that matters, is winning.

* * *

**OMG THERE WAS MASSINGTON IN IT! EEEEEEEE!**

**Okay.**

**I'm good now.**

**Swear.**

**And because this girl is an idiot, she completely forgot to write up an OC form for the OC contest. Pathetic. **

**So far, here's the story:**

**There's one girl that's given up hope, one boy that's unsure and scared, and one girl that will do anything to come home, even if it means killing the only person she could be happy with.**

**Done, done, and done.**

**So here's the OC form:**

**Full name:**

**Nickname:**

**Personality:**

**Physical Description:**

**Skill:**

**Preferred Weapon:**

**Motivation: (like why they want to come home, or why they've already given up)**

**District:**

**Gender:**

**Other:**

**I will also be accepting suggestions on pairings/romances/alliances but I will do Massington, Clam, Jolisha, Kristen x Kemp, and Dylan x Chris. Others are up to you readers! And feel free to add anything about a character that I probably forgot. **

**REVIEW.**


	4. She Wears Heels and She Always Falls

Wildfire: Chapter 4

**HEY.**

***awkotaco silence***

**I'M SORRY!**

**I'm a terrible person. I'm so sorry I lied about updating, but that wasn't my fault. So don't come after me with pitchforks and torches. Go for my parents. They were the ones who got all pissed and threw a hissy fit at me because I was trying to finish writing at like 10:30. I'm just like, "Goddamnit, I'm TRYING TO WRITE." Eh. Either way, the crappiest updater in the entire history of crappy updaters in Fanfiction is back. Seriously, guys, this is like the quickest update ever. Whoa. Now that I think about it, that's really sad. And I am pissed right now because of my fucking Spanish teacher. Screw that bitch. Anyway, I was motivated by listening to "Baby Blue Eyes" by A Rocket to the Moon. Old song, but an awesome song. Check it out. :) Title is from that song too. Guess what? We're getting closer to the Claire/Cam chapters. :) And I'd like to thank all of those who support this story, although I know sometimes it's really shitty and I never update, so you people who put up with me are amazing. Here's to: parachute hearts (Lily), psychotic honeybadger of death (Sarah), and DreamCatcherGirlie39. Love ya all. So, all my awesomeness aside, here's the chapter. Enjoy.**

**Love,**

**Anastasia**

**.:She Wears Heels, and Always Falls:.**

* * *

_Derrick Harrington, age 13, District 4_

* * *

The sun is still sleeping and the stars are glowing faintly against the midnight blue sky as I quietly walk into the training center. I pause, and I hear _her_. Massie. I involuntarily smile when I hear her throwing knifes at the foam dummy. When I close my eyes, I can just imagine her- stunning amber eyes burning with determined fire, silky chestnut hair tucked into a ponytail, tan leather jacket shrugged carelessly on her slim shoulders, soft pillowy pink lips pursed in concentration, a large collection of sharp projectiles in her right hand, left hand drawn back, gripping a knife. I know that that's exactly what she looks like now, because I've memorized her throughout the _monthshoursminutesseconds_ that I've spent studying her, drinking in the sweet scent of her lingering mango and coconut shampoo. I hear sounds of the foam figure being punctured, each time exactly at either the heart or the brain. She never misses. Then, I hear the sound of a knife whizzing through the air, and a shout.

"FUCK!" That had to be her. She must have missed. I slowly peer in the spacious room, only daring to take a little peek; unless I'd like a knife embedded in my body. She didn't miss, but she did cut herself. I see a long gash, bloody and torn, extending all the way from the base of her wrist to the side of her middle finger. Ouch, that looked like it hurt. I watch her as she stomps angrily with her black combat boots and throws down the bunch of knives in her right hand to carefully examines the damage. I see her gently touching the tender wound, and something tugs on my heart. But I suck it up and plaster a cocky smile on my face as I lean against the door frame, chuckling at her clumsiness.

"I never thought I'd see the day where the great Massie Block would cut herself," I said, smirking tauntingly. I knew that would set her off. It was amusing, really, watching her fight and argue. I could tell she really wanted to plunge a knife into my heart from the way her fierce amber eyes were narrowing as she glared at me. God, she was even beautiful when she was glaring and scowling at me.

_No, Harrington, suck it up. Massie Block is not good enough for you. Yes, you cheated on her, but that was for good reason. Right? Right._

"Why are you here, Harrington?" She spat, hate evident in her tone.

"Same reason you are." Okay, that was a lie. I was supposed to train, but I just ended up stalking her over her at four in the morning. Well then.

"Please. Don't expect me to believe that you showed up at exactly four in the morning because you wanted to train." Damn it. She knew me. She knew that I preferred sleeping in and lazing around than waking up before the sun rose to train.

"Chill, Block. I'm not here to humiliate you. I just got here," I said, mustering up as much arrogance as I could fake at four in the morning with just me and Massie Block.

"Unless you'd like me to throw a knife into your brain, I suggest you shut up and leave me alone." That's what I was expecting. That's the answer I always got when I tried to at least converse in a friendly manner. That's a lie too. Goddamnit what is with me today? I never really do try to be friendly to her, I'm just usually pretending to be cocky and superior, mainly because I'm scared that if I'm nice to her, she'll figure out that I still have feelings for her.

"Anger management much," I say, risking to mumble it under my breath. It took all of my very little self-control to not grin like an idiot when I see her annoyed expression. I bounded across the squishy gym floor towards the wall mounted with various equally deadly forms of spears and swords and other sharp pointy things. No shit. I'm in a weapon room, obviously everything's gonna be sharp and pointy. Goddamnit, why am I such an idiot today?

I pretend to practice spearing a dummy through the heart at fifteen yards while watching Massie. I knew I could spear the dummy at fifteen yards in my sleep. I watch as she bends down to pick up the discarded knives, forgetting that her hand was injured. I wince as the tip of a particularly deadly looking number digs into her wound. Some swear words were definitely on the way.

"SHIT!" Massie shouted, trying not to cringe from the pain as she tried to stem the blood flow. I think she's going to be fine, but then she begins to look really pale and she starts to sink to the floor. I throw my spear to the ground and sprint over to her. Massie looks like she's about to faint, but she still looks beautiful. Goddamnit, how does she do it? How does she make me; big-shot Derrick Harrington, feel completely...unconfident? I wrap my arms around her, supporting her weight as I tried to help her up. She pulls away from me, and immediately drops to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Ignore that, it was a horrible analogy. Hell, how did I even think of that? I scoop her up and carry her- bridal style, to the infirmary and gently placed her on a chair, treating her like she was fragile china. I carefully clean up her bloody hands with warm water, trying not to hurt her. My heart clenches a tiny bit when I see her wince when I apply the rubbing alcohol and antibiotic cream. I can tell she's watching me, through half-closed eyes. I wrap white bandage around her injury and watch her carefully.

A strand of her wavy chestnut hair falls from her ponytail, sweeping in front of her left eye. Her hand starts to fly up to fix it, but I brush it back gently as I stare into her eyes. Her eyes are a lovely shade of amber, like grain fields of District 11. You don't see that eye color much, and yes, it does get pretty scary when she glares at me, but I like it when she glares at me; because you can see the flecks of gold in those dazzling eyes. I'm about to get lost into her eyes when she breaks contact and stands up to leave, muttering a barely audible word of thanks on her way out. I close my eyes and think_, I wish I didn't screw things up between us._

* * *

When I'm back home, it's nearly noon. Almost time for reapings. I jog into the kitchen for a quick bite to eat after ditching my sneakers in my room. My mother is straightening things up around the kitchen while Sammi is digging through the pantry.

"What the hell?! How come there's like no food in here? Derrick, did you eat all of it?!" Sammi yells the minute she hears me striding into the kitchen. I shrug noncommittally.

"Maybe I did," I reply smugly, grinning at her as I hand her a box of sugary cereal from the cupboard. Sammi scrunches up her tiny nose like a bunny and shakes her head.

"Ew, that stuff is so fattening and sugary. Do you know how much sugar there is in that shit?" Sammi comments as I dump the colorful rings into a bowl filled to the brim with milk. I shrug again and begin to dig in to my sugarfest. Sammi rolls her eyes-_ she looks so much like Massie_ when she does that- and continues her mission of finding something edible. My father strides in, reading the sports section of the CaptiolNews paper. He looks so much like me. We've go the same floppy dirty blonde hair and that lazy grin that drives girls crazy. Except he's got twinkling cobalt blue eyes when I've got my mother's puppy dog brown eyes. Sammi and I both have our mother's eyes. I study my sister as she finally sits down with a half of a piece of whole wheat toast with a tiny bit of tuna smeared on it. Her long blonde waves are a light, beach blonde, unlike my dirty blonde mop. Her hair's naturally wavy, just like Massie's. _What the hell, stop thinking about Massie!_

Sammi's eyes are light brown, and we look almost identical. Except for the fact that I'm a guy and she's three years older than me. She notices me staring at her and gives me a strange look.

"Derrick, why the hell are you staring at me like that? It's freaky. Stop that," She says in an annoyed tone. _God, she sounds just like Massie._ Damn. I can tell that behind her annoyed tone, she's worried. About both of us. She's sixteen, and she has six slips in this year. I'm thirteen, with only three slips.

"Sammi, stop worrying. We're gonna be fine," I mutter as I pass her to put my bowl in the sink. I smirk as I watch her eyes widen in surprise and her expression relaxes a little. I grab the soccer ball next to the couch and head out back to kick it around. I was bored. I wanted to invite someone over, but I just didn't have any friends. Let me rephrase that. Of course, I, the ever-amazing Derrick Harrington would have a ton of friends, but none of those people are my real friends. There's this one guy, but he died in a car crash two years ago, so I'd rather not mention him. But it's hard to forget. I kind of just juggle the ball around idly. Of course, I immediately start to think about Massie.

_Her eyes are really pretty- amber. Like...maple syrup, or honey. I like her eyes- I mean they're really cool and all, especially when the gold flecks. But you don't usually see those gold flecks unless she's glaring at you. And she glares at me a lot. And sometimes, she's really scary when she's glaring at me. Yeah. But sometimes, I just wanna stare into those amber eyes of hers and- OKAY FUCKING STOP IT NOW._

_Her skin is really smooth and pale. It's like...peaches and cream. And her cheeks. I guess her cheeks are cool too. I guess. Cuz they're kinda smooth and rosy-looking, and sometimes I just wanna touch her cheeks and- OH MY FUCKING GOD._

_Her lips. Yeah. Her lips are so pink, and soft. It's like…a pillow. Eh. That sounded really weird. And when she laughs, smiles, or smirks, her lips curl up, and she looks really sweet and pretty. When she scowls at me too, because she usually just smirks or scowls at me. She used to smile at me a lot, but now she fucking hates me. And I don't blame her. But sometimes I wish I could just grab her and kiss her, and- SERIOUSLY THIS IS STUPID STOP THINKING ABOUT KISSING MASSIE BLOCK, GODDAMNIT._

I don't realize that I'm lost in thought until the soccer ball bounces off my shin and thwacks me in the face. Real smooth, Harrington. Sammi opens the glass door and looks at me funny. I think I might have a bruise.

"Derrick, we're leaving for reaping soon. Go get changed." She's already wearing a flattering mint green dress with a thin gold braided belt wrapped around her thin torso. Her blonde wavelets are held back with a thick mint green headband with a bow. I smile, and she gives me another weird look.

"Derrick, why are you smiling?"

"You look pretty, sis. For once," I say, smirking as I stroll in the house. She scowls and- _what the fuck she looks so much like Massie when she does that_- then punches me on the arm.

"Shut up, you little asshole," She retorts jokingly. I wonder what Massie's gonna wear to reaping… I jog to my room and change into black trousers and a dark blue button up shirt- the same color as my father's eyes. I'm struggling with the tie while walking into the living room when Sammi suddenly rips the tie from my hands.

"Hey!"

"Little bro, you're going to reapings, not a funeral."

"Well, it might as well be a funeral."

"Just, just- don't wear the fucking tie."

"Fine, God."

"Jesus, what's up with you?"

"Nothing."

* * *

The ride to the town square is spent in comfortable, yet uneasy silence. Sammi inspects her French manicure and nervously smooths her dress. When the car stops, I quickly jump out and start looking for Massie. I see her immediately, looking awkward and uncomfortable a pretty silky coral dress and matching wedges. She's stunning. But I knew she wouldn't voluntarily wear this. Her mother obviously forced her into that girly get up, because the Massie I knew (and loved), hated girly shit. I watch her walking into a group of ridiculously dressed girls in slutty, showy attire. I watch her argue with Celestia Tarrowen, (ugh) and I snort as I watch Massie insult Celestia and Celestia looks shocked and offended. Celestia was the leader of a gang of supposedly "fashionable" goons. She was in love with me, and she hated Massie for dating me. But seriously- I felt like I had to take a shower every time I was around Celestia. She was that bad.

Massie's attention suddenly turns to the boys' area. _Who was she looking for? Is it me?_ She sees me, and our eyes meet. For the first time since she dumped me, she didn't break away as soon as our eyes met.

Soft caramel melts into fiery amber.

Fierce amber clings to warm caramel.

Then she breaks away, her cheeks slightly pink. _Was she really looking for me? Why was she blushing?_ I instinctively cover my ears when I hear the sharp sound of a microphone. The annoyingly high pitched noise also forces my attention away from Massie, and to our fucking ugly-ass crazy-looking rainbow of an escort. I'm not fucking with you, our escort is a fucking rainbow.

"Hi everyone! My name is Bubble, and I'm your escort!" She giggles loudly into the microphone. Bubble; really? Honestly, I expected her name to be Rainbow. Her ankle-length hair is dyed a rainbow of colors, and I can't fucking tell red from pink in that mess. There were colors in her hair that I had never even vaguely heard of. Her skin is also dyed rainbow, like it's seriously a fucking rainbow. She's a walking, talking, fucking rainbow. Don't even get me started on her eyes. I'm 99.9% sure that those swirling rainbow irises are contacts. Who knows; they do all kinds of crazy shit in the Capitol?

"Girly girls first!" She chirps, and I can see Massie trying not to barf at the thought of being called a "girly girl". Rainbow- I'm gonna call her that; because it suits her so fucking well- reaches deep inside of the big clear bowl and picks up a slip of paper with her- you guessed it- rainbow nails. See? The name Rainbow suits her way better than Bubble. Rainbow unfolds the slip, and I pray for Massie and Sammi's safety._ PLEASE DON'T BE MASSIE OR SAMMI, PLEASE DON'T BE MASSIE OR SAMMI, PLEASE DON'T BE MASSIE OR SAMMI, PLEASE DON'T BE MASSIE OR SAMMI, DEAR GOD IF YOU'RE THERE, DON'T FUCKING LET IT BE MASSIE OR SAMMI._

"CELESTIA TARROWEN!"

I will be honest. I tried my very hardest not to start jumping up and down for joy and crying tears of happiness. Seriously. That was before. Before Massie fucking volunteered.

Her hand shot up in the air, and I immediately knew what she was going to say. Well, if she's going, then I'm going. I'm not letting her go _AGAIN_. My hand shot up as well, and I hear myself shouting the words in unison with Massie.

"I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!"

Massie looks bewildered, then confused and annoyed. Her eyes meet mine again. Burning with determination, smoldering with passion. Yet her eyes are sad, and uncertain too. It makes me want to run to her and wrap my arms around her. Rainbow's fucking weird eyes widen with anticipation.

"Well, come on up, you two!" She warbles, spinning around dizzily like a ballerina reject. She's even worse than Sammi, and that's saying something. I fall in step with Massie as we solemnly walk towards the stage. Towards our deaths. Rainbow practically jams her hand into Massie's and shakes it violently. I smirk as I watch Massie struggle to regain her hand as soon as possible with minimal exposure to Rainbow's "cooties". Then our escort grips my hand and practically tries to rip my arm right out of its fucking socket when she shakes it. Damn. I rip my hand away from it's. Then Rainbow tries to shove the fucking microphone up Massie's nose,

"What are your names?" She finally asks, realizing that she didn't know our names.

"Massie Block."

"And you, sweetheart?" Fuck, was she trying to hit on me? Goddamnit, that just scarred me for life.

"Derrick Harrington."

Rainbow clamped her hands on our wrists and threw them into the air.

"MASSIE BLOCK AND DERRICK HARRINGTON, TRIBUTES OF DISTRICT 2!"

Then we're gone.

* * *

My mother is crying softly in a corner while my father just looks sad and depressed. I'm immediately hit by a pang of guilt, but not before I'm hit by something else. Remorse and Sammi's slap. I clutch my cheek, jaw hanging in disbelief.

"What the hell, Sammi? What was that for?"

"FOR FUCKING VOLUNTEERING!"

"Sammi, I'm sorry- but I just-just wanted to do something worthwhile."

"GETTING YOURSELF FUCKING KILLED IS WORTHWHILE?! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU FUCKING VOLUNTEERED! YOU KNEW HOW WORRIED I WAS FOR THE BOTH OF US- BUT OH NO- YOU GO AND FUCKING VOLUNTEER!"

I'm speechless. I guess I didn't really think about how this would impact my family. Sammi stops screaming and begins to cry, and my parents engulf me in a big hug. Sammi joins in, and before I know it, I'm crying too. The white uniformed Peacekeeper is at the door.

"I love you." We all whispered in unison.

And then, my family leaves.

Forever.

At least I have Massie.

Right?

This time, this time I'll show her that I'll do whatever it takes to get her back.

And keep her.

That's the hard part.

And I have no fucking idea how I'm gonna do it.

* * *

**Okay, I finally finished.**

**That, is a truly great accomplishment.**

**Yay.**

**So here's the story so far:**

******There's one girl that's given up hope, one boy that's unsure and scared, one girl that will do anything to come home, even if it means killing the only person she could be happy with, and one boy who's in it for the love of his life.**

**So here are the tributes! And yes, I am still accepting OCs. Submit as many as you want. The more the merrier!**

District 1: Alicia Rivera and Joshua Hotz

District 2: Massie Block and Derrick Harrington

District 3: Kristen Gregory and Kemp Hurley

District 4: Claire Lyons and Cameron Fisher

District 5: Dylan Marvil and Christopher Plovert

District 6: Layne Abeley and Dempsey Solomon

District 7: Skye Hamilton and Dune Baxter

District 8: still open

District 9: Allison Amber Hasden (DreamCatcherGirlie39) and Bennet Timothy Tyson (parachute hearts)

District 10: still open

District 11: Vivian Lea Prince (parachute hearts) male is still open

District 12: still open

**OMFG OMFG OMFG GUYS HELP ME I DON'T KNOW WHAT ALLIANCES I SHOULD DO!**!

**Well, I was thinking that the canon characters band together but then someone betrays them and then yeahhhh...**

**So PM me alliances/romances I should do!**

**And yes, Claire and Cam are a given. *cough* psychotic honebadger of death (Sarah) *cough***

**Love you all, my lovelies.**

**REVIEW.**

**OR MAY YOU BE BESET UPON BY A PACK OF JELLY BABIES. (From "The Serpent's Shadow")**

**Kay, bye loves.**

**WAIT.**

**DON'T FORGET TO VOTE ON THE POLL ON MY PROFILE!**

**Kisses.**


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